


Five Days in Porter

by tellyoscar



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:15:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29642175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tellyoscar/pseuds/tellyoscar
Summary: Porter, VA - Population: 299. Michonne makes an unwanted trip to an odd little Virginia town just in time for their annual turnip festival. Random encounters with the town’s mayor leads to an unexpectedly enjoyable stay.
Relationships: Rick Grimes/Michonne
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	1. Day 1

Five days in Porter, Virginia

**Day 1**

Porter, GA - Population: 299

* * *

There are very few experiences more bizarre than hearing deafening Christmas music booming from loudspeaker in May. Michonne had always been of the belief that such music should cease to exist upon the arrival of December 26th, never to be heard again until after the following Thanksgiving.

She hesitantly stepped out of her car surveying the sparsely occupied parking lot. She mentally weighed her options considering how wise it would be to interact with the occupants of the peculiar establishment.

“What is this place?” she muttered, marching reluctantly toward the entrance of the diner with the faded sign all the while wishing she was back in her condo enjoying the view of the city from her patio with her cat.  _ Only because I love her. _

The bell over the door jingled when she entered the empty diner. Oddly enough, the music was blasting from large speakers outside instead of something overhead inside the restaurant. The music was still audible with the closed door, but the setup was very peculiar. 

_ This is why I don’t do small towns in the middle of nowhere. Breeding ground for weird shit.  _

“Hello?” She almost chuckled to herself at how much she sounded like a woman in a horror movie. “I’m looking for some directions!”

She looked around the small diner, which had all the familiar trappings she imagines a small town diner would. It was narrow and elongated with a service counter at the center with checker-tiled floors. There was even a large jukebox on the far side of the diner.

_ And the Christmas bells that ring there _

_ Are the clanging chimes of doom _

_ Well, tonight thank God, it’s them _

_ Instead of you _

The obnoxious music stopped and she heard movement from somewhere in the back of the diner. she clutched her the pepper spray hidden in her purse, prepared to defend herself from some small town psycho if necessary.

“Somebody out there?”

“Yeah. I’m a little lost actually. I’m looking for…” Her voice trailed off as a man wearing a welding mask emerged from the swinging double doors.

_ Hell no! _

“Yes?” He removed the welding helmet to reveal his volumeless mullet and a strangely blank facial expression.

“Porter. The town?”

“Well it’s your lucky day, because you’re standing in it,” he said. “Starting from this fine establishment and ending at the Greene farm on the edge of Coley Road. Welcome to Porter.”

“Oh...that’s great. Perfect.” She smiled, but she was sure it looked more like a grimace. “I didn’t see a sign or anything and my GPS can’t seem to identify the address I’m trying to find. I don’t know what’s going on with it. I guess this place is both difficult and easy to find.”

“The sign is back there,” he nodded towards the back of the diner where he emerged. “Was fixing a bit of the lightning damage. Thunderstorms are mighty unpredictable. I should be done in a jiffy and have it back up by the days end.”

“...Okay.” She didn’t know how else she was supposed to comment. “Well I’m looking for 11 Belcher road. I’m not sure if you can point me in the  – ”

The bell chimed behind her cutting off her request as a man spoke behind her in a husky drawl. “I don’t know what it is with that machine. The stuff still down, Eugene?”

“Uh, yes sir.”

Michonne turned to find the  _ sir  _ and came face to face with a darked-haired man that she would mentally describe as a very attractive cowboy. He wore a dark blue button-down shirt, partially tucked in his blue jeans and the his booted feet completed the countryside flair.

“Oh, we have a visitor in Porter?” His smile was warm and inviting and she found herself automatically returning it, getting lost in his sky blue orbs.

“Uh, yes.” She refrained from calling him sir. “I’m was a little lost, but apparently, I’m in the right place. I just need to figure out where exactly I’m going. Or hell, even where I am.”

“I’d be happy to help. Who’re you looking for? It’s a small community. Everybody knows everybody.”

“Maya Moreau. She lives on Belcher road.”

He gave her a slow once over. “A relative?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s recovering mighty fine from her hip surgery.” The man named Eugene said. “You’re going to need to head down on Colma, then take the first left onto Boring and then another left will get you right on Belcher. Her house will be the third one down.”

“Okay I might need to write this all down. Could you repeat that?” She reached for her phone opening the notes. 

“I’m actually headed that way I just stopped to drop something off for Eugene. You can follow me home,” he said, taking a step toward her. He was close. He also smelled nice, she noticed. “Maya is my neighbor.”

“Oh, well this all works out then.” She laughed nervously, which was uncharacteristic of her. She was feeling hot all of a sudden, despite the mild weather and air conditioned diner. “Thanks so much.”

“Not a problem. You’ll always find help in Porter.” His words felt as if they had a deeper meaning she didn’t quite understand.

“I’m Michonne by the way,” she said holding out her hand.

“I’m Rick. Rick Grimes.” 

“Nice to meet you Rick.”

“Good to meet you too.” 

He turned, handing a small brown parcel to Eugene. “This is it. Do you think you’ll be able to fix the machine.”

“Do I?” he scoffed. “Come Saturday and it’s done.”

“Good to hear.”

Rick Grimes drove a black suburban truck with ‘Borough of Porter’ in white lettering across the side. Michonne followed him in her own car through the secluded little town, that up until today she only heard in passing when speaking to her mother, until he pulled up near a large three story victorian style house.

He exited his car, approaching hers and she rolled down her window.

“That’s her over there,” he said, pointing across the street. 

“Thanks again.”

“Happy to help.” He nodded, his eyes remaining fixed on hers. “So how long will you be in Porter for?”

“Not long,” she replied, unable to tear her own eyes away. “Five days or so. Then I have to get back to...everything.”

“Well hopefully I’ll see a lot of you around during these five days.”

_ Was he flirting? _

“Maybe you will.”

She sure was flirting back. There was no harm in that. He was a very good looking man.

“I should get going, we have a meeting soon. I’m sure Maya won’t miss it, so I’ll probably see you there Michonne.” Her name sounded like honey (if honey had a sound) coming from his mouth.

“Okay,” she said, even though she doubted she would be leaving the house for the rest of the day once she was inside. Her day had been long and unusual enough.

She pulled in front of what she presumed was her mother’s new house, not bothering to lug her bag inside as yet. She smiled to herself remembering her mother’s fondness for homes that resembled dollhouses with its elaborate trims, bright colors, and spacious grounds.

She was surprised to be greeted with no response when she rang the doorbell. She twisted the handle on the door and it was unsurprisingly locked.

“Just perfect.” She glanced around the house wondering if she should look for a back door. Perhaps her mother simply didn’t hear her. Was this even the right house? Was it the right Porter?

_ Of course it is. What are the odds of two Maya Moreau’s living in two different Porters? _

Besides, she’d never heard of this Porter, so she highly doubted there were two within a two hour driving distance of her apartment. She silently cursed at her own stupidity for not coming back to the states sonner when she heard about the accident.

“You looking for Maya?” An older gentleman with wispy white hair was standing at the end of the drive, stooped over a wooden cane. He smiled kindly at her.

“Yeah, she’s not answering the door for some reason,” she answered. “I doubt she would have gone anywhere. She’s expecting me.”

“Town meeting,” he replied, in a raspy voice. 

“Town meeting?”

“It’s the first Tuesday.” He said as if it were some kind of explanation she would understand.

Michonne’s frustration with the day was growing. “She just had hip surgery!”

“She’s recovering very well,” he commented, before turning to continue his amble down the street. “I bet she’s already at Town Hall. You coming?”

Going against everything she learned from city life, Michonne resignedly descended the stone steps to follow the gray-haired elder to where she assumed the Town Hall was located.

“You must be the daughter,” he said casually starting up a conversation as she walked in pace with his slow shuffle. “With the unique name. What was it again? She always talks about you.”

“It’s Michonne.”

“That’s it!”

“So, what is this town meeting all about? Something important happen?” She couldn’t imagine why else people would want to attend. It didn’t sound very appealing.

“I told you,” he said. “We have them every month. Mayor Grimes likes to keep them going. It’s like a tradition in a sense. Most people come out.”

“Interesting,” Michonne said, wondering why her mother picked this strange little town out of all places to retire. “I didn’t know little towns like this had mayors.”

“Someone has to run the town and that’s essentially what the board is for,” he explained. “We have an election every other year. We elect a treasurer and a clerk and all that too. Usually the same people though, because not many newbies in Porter. Our population only grew by one in the last year.”

“Well that’s something.” She made a mental note to do a quick google search on the history of the town. It would probably be a part of one of those clickbait articles listing the strangest places in America.

“You’ll like it here in Porter. We’re a friendly closed-knit bunch.”

“That’s nice,” Michonne said. “I’ve been meaning to spend more time with my mother. I haven’t been since she decided to move out here. She always the one that visits me.”

“She’ll be happy to see you. That I know. Well here we are,” he said stopping in front of the tall white wood building with a high steeple. There was a sign out front reading ‘St. Sarah’s Episcopal Church’ despite another sign with the words ‘Town Hall’ in large black lettering on the opposite side.

“Town Hall is also a church?” she asked incredulously.

“It’s a very small town,” he shrugged. “We switch signs depending on the occasion. We have a guy for that stuff. Eugene. He gets a kick out of it. A weird one, that one.”

As they approached the church, she noticed the very same Eugene, the sign enthusiast from the diner, on his way inside and she couldn’t help but laugh at how surreal her day was turning out to be. “I better not end up in a torture chamber in somebody’s basement at the end of all this.”

“Pardon?” the man asked, furrowing his brow at her odd declaration.

“Nothing,” she said shaking her head at her own silliness. “Thanks so much for your help. It was nice talking to you. I guess I should find Maya.”

When they entered the church, Michonne craned her neck looking for her mother. The first face her eyes landed on, however, was none other than Rick Grimes, who she now realized must also be Mayor Grimes.

He was seated at the front of the church (or town hall as it was currently called and operated) with four men and three women, who she assumed were part of the elected board. The remainder of half of the town’s inhabitants sat in pews listening to what was being discussed.

One of the board members, a caramel skinned woman with a large curly afro stood and started summarizing a proposed budget for a festival that will take place the following year. She must have been the treasurer. She drowned out most of what was being said, until Rick started speaking.

It seemed there would be a largely anticipated event taking place in Porter that Saturday and the big haired treasurer, who Rick referred to as Sasha, based the proposed budget on their spending for said festival.

Rick’s eyes were now on her and his sentence trailed off as people turned to see the latecomer that diverted his attention. She looked away, spotting her mother who gleefully waved her over. She moved down the side aisle trying to avoid being too much of a distraction as she approached the woman who shared many of her features.

“Hi baby.” Maya smiled giving Michonne a quick kiss on the cheek as she slipped next to her. “Welcome to Porter.”

  
  



	2. Day Two

**Day 2**

Porter, VA - Population: 299

* * *

The morning sky was bright and cloudless and the air still and tranquil. The neighborhood was deceptively quiet. Other than the twin voices, the only sounds were the creaking sound of rope against wood and the birds chirping merrily in the solar lighted fluted bird bath in the center of the garden.

“A turnip festival?” 

Michonne smiled at the chirping birds, surprised gardening held her fickle mother’s interest long enough for her to cultivate an immaculately landscaped front yard. 

It was impressive.

“Yes, we have it every year. It’s a longstanding tradition.” 

“And your plan is for us to make sculptures out of turnips to enter a competition at the festival?” Michonne asked making sure she was understanding what her mother was proposing.

“A sculpture, not sculptures. I want to stand out. Nobody’ll think to do that. I think we can win this year and beat Annette Greene.” Maya reached for her tea cup, taking a dainty sip. “I can’t believe you’ve never visited me out here. It took a broken hip to finally drag you to Porter.”

Michonne sighed, kicking her feet to make the porch swing rock in a faster, but steady, back and forth motion. “How are you feeling Mom?” 

“I feel fine. Like a spring chicken,” she assured her. “It’s been over a month since the surgery. I can move around without breaking anything else.” 

“Okay. Just making sure,” Michonne said. “So, where exactly are we going to get all these turnips to make a sculpture the size of the kitchen table? You growing some out back?”

“No, but Porter’s probably got enough turnips to last us through an apocalypse. One of Hershel’s kids will probably bring a truckload over later if I don’t make it over there myself.”

“A truckload!”

“I’m kidding,” she laughed. “Mostly.”

Michonne shook her head, glancing across the lawn to the black suburban truck parked in the driveway opposite theirs. “So, you live next door to the town’s mayor, huh?” she asked, keeping her tone nonchalant.

The house stood silently and tall across the street. It’s muted brown color and barely tended grounds stood out in stark contrast with the bright and almost fantastical home of her mother. It appeared almost ominous. She idly wondered if he lived alone. Like her mother’s house, it was rather large for one person.

If it wasn’t for the packed church the night before she would have been convinced her mother moved to an abandoned town with three other people. 

“That title is a little more casual than it sounds. I take it you’ve met,” Maya responded with a knowing smile. “I saw him making eyes at you yesterday at the meeting. When you walked in. I noticed that.”

“He was not.” He was, but she wasn’t going to admit that to Maya.

“I invited him over for dinner with us, by the way.”

“No you didn’t.” They’d been indoors all morning and they left the meeting without mingling. It was highly unlikely that her mother saw Rick. 

Unless she invited him before.

“What? He’s my neighbor. He’s handsome and he’s single. You’re single too. I’d like some grandkids one day. I say you single folks should mingle.” She gave her daughter a playful nudge, letting her know she was joking. Mostly. “But, no. I didn’t invite him. Yet.”

“I’m not trying to date right now. Especially not out here.”

“What’s wrong with out here? That’s what cars are for sweetie.”

“You’re nuts. Literally. You know that right?”

She winked, wearing an amused grin. “And you love me for it.”

Michonne felt a familiar heaviness in her chest, growing emotional. She supposed she did miss Maya more than she allowed herself to think.

She had a unique upbringing. As a child, having a free-spirited artist slash dance instructor as a mother had its perks. Maya was the permissive, non-directive parent, who sometimes felt more like a friend than a parent. 

“I love you, mom.”

Maya smiled, leaning back against the swing as she watched her daughter. “You do know I’m not dying yet right? It’s just hip surgery.”

“Yes Maya,” Michonne playfully rolled her eyes, letting out a lighthearted laugh. “I know you’re not dying. I just thought you should know. I don’t say it enough.”

“Well, I love you too. More than words,” she said. “You know, sometimes I miss when you were little. Your dad and I always used to take you on afternoon walks and we used to play that game. He’d always sing that song. What was it?”

“ _ More than all the water in the seven seas _ ,” Michonne sang, attempting to mimic her late father’s baritone. She was surprised to hear Maya, who was fond of burying painful or negative feelings, speaking of him. 

Maya drew in a deep slow breath, staring off into the distance at nothing in particular. “Usually around this time, I like to water the plants. I get lots of compliments on my yard. I like it. I feel like that’s what people in places like this should do. I’m embracing this new lifestyle.” She slid herself forward on the swing, wincing as she stood.

Michonne’s hands automatically shot out as worry crossed her face. “You okay?”

“A little pain is all,” she said, waving her off. “That’s what I get for challenging a twelve year old to a rollerblading match. That smug little asshole.”

“Mom!”

“What?” she asked, innocently. “He was.”

Michonne rose from the swing, reaching for the watering can near the railing. “I can water them, Mom. I’m here so you can relax. Besides I can learn or thing or two from you. This place looks amazing. I might get some house plants for my apartment.”

“First of all, you’re only here to spend time with me.” She relinquished the watering can, putting both hands on her hips. “I wouldn’t mind some help though. Rick usually stops over, but you're good too. Most of this is his doing you know. He saw me out here one day struggling with a spade and just came over and offered to help. I wouldn’t have kept this up without him.”

“The mayor doubles as your landscaper?”

“It’s a hobby.” Maya defended over her shoulder as she entered the house. “People in Porter are multi-talented too.” 

Michonne shook her head at the woman, kicking off her slippers to exchange them for Maya’s gardening boots. 

She skipped down the front steps, humming softly to herself as she approached the hydrangeas with the metal watering can. She smiled up at the sky as she felt the warm sunlight on her skin.

She crouched down on the garden path, lined with a wide variety of hydrangea on both sides, shifting the petals away to moisten the rich dark soil below.

“Morning neighbor.” Her stomach fluttered at the sound of the voice. The same one she heard behind her for the first time the day prior.

She turned, looking up to find him standing on the pathway leading to the house smiling at her. Her heart almost stopped at the sight and she was momentarily lost in his deep blue orbs that seemed to have so much written in them. “Hi.”

“Gardening?” 

“Uh, just attempting to help,” she said, rising to her feet. “My mother said you did most of this. It’s beautiful.”

“It’s a hobby. Wouldn’t have started without her,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. She watched, and got a little lost in, the rise and fall of his sculpted chest under his denim button down. “Maya’s the actual brains behind the whole operation.”

“Sounds like Maya.”

“So, how’re you liking Porter so far?” he asked, moving closer to where she stood.

“Alright. Then again, I’ve only really seen the diner, the church, and the inside of my mother’s house. You’re the second person I’m seeing for the day.”

“That’s a shame. It has a lot more to offer.”

“Well, you’re the mayor, so I think you’d be the best person to ask. What else does it have to offer? What do people do here?”

“A little bit of everything,” he said as his mouth twisted into a grin. 

“Well, that doesn’t give away much,” she said. “No tourist attractions? I am a tourist after all.”

“I can probably show more than I can tell, but if you like great food and you’re a nature and a book lover, you should take a trip to main street,” he said. “We also have a pretty popular hiking trail overlooking the lake.”

“I’ll have to look into that.”

“Now that I think about it I don’t think I like that my job got stolen by a newcomer though,” he teased taking another a step toward where she stood, clutching the watering can to her chest. He stood as close as he did in the diner the day before.

“Well I  —” The quippy response she was planning to give was interrupted by the slamming front door and her mother’s voice.

“Morning Rick.”

“How ya doin’ Maya?” He answered without tearing his piercing eyes away from hers. And as if he was holding her in a trance, she didn’t immediately look away either.

“I’m alright,” she said, appearing at the top of the steps. “Happy to finally have my daughter come visit me. How’s your father doing?”

He broke their steady eye contact to look at Maya as he answered.

“He’s alright. I stopped by the cabin the other day to check in. He’s worse than Eugene with his hijinks sometimes. He’s building some kind of contraption out there and it seems like he doesn’t want me to know what it is.”

Maya offered a sympathetic smile, while Michonne, being nosy, tried to mentally decode the meaning behind their brief conversation. “He’ll come around.”

Rick sighed, putting both hands on his waist. “I sure hope so.”

“You know, you should join us for dinner tonight. We’d love the company.” 

He hesitated, shifting his eyes between Michonne’s rigid stance near the garden and her mother’s fervid grin. “I’d hate to impose on family time. Plus, I’ve actually got some  — ”

Maya didn’t let him finish his excuse. “It’s not an imposition at all, we’d be happy to have you. Won’t we Chonney?”

“Yeah.”

“Then it’s settled?” It sounded more like a statement despite the upward inflection at the end of the sentence. “Dinner is at six.”

“How about tomorrow night? If that’s okay with you. I really do have something tonight.”

“Tomorrow then. I’m holding you to that Mister.”

“Okay,” he chuckled. “Yes ma’am. I’ll be here, Maya. I’m looking forward to it.”

“What are you up to today, by the way?”

He ran a hand through his dark curly hair, his muscles flexing as he looked back to his truck. “I’m actually headed over to the Greene farm now. I’ll head down to the station later.”

“Oh goodie! I was supposed to get some seedlings from Hershel, but I don’t feel up to it.” She winced, placing a hand on her hip. “The turnips for the festival too. Shawn was going to bring them over later, but if it’s not too much of a bother, could you?”

“Sure. Anything for you Maya.” He glanced over at Michonne, who had started watering the plants again. “You can come along too if you want. See a little more of the town than just the diner and Maya’s house.”

“That’s actually a great idea!” Maya explained. “Sweetheart, you’ll love it. This place is such a beauty. You were talking about doing a bit of sightseeing.”

Well she couldn’t say no to that. 

“Uh yeah,” She glanced down at her flannel shorts that she usually reserved for wearing around the house and the old boots of Maya’s she was wearing. The usually immaculately put together woman looked, to her personal standards, a mess. “Let me just change into something else and then we can go.”

**~….~**

Porter had all the quaint attributes of a small secluded town. Rick pointed areas of interest as they drove past the vintage shops on main street, the old train tracks, and the lake that lay in the valley beneath the vivid mighty green mountains.

It was apparently a popular place for summer picnics and and the annual hike fest.

Throughout the drive Michonne was hyper-aware of his nearness inside the vehicle. She felt his every movement from when he leaned over to wave and greet familiar faces to when he was simply breathing.

“I thought it was just my mother’s house, but I can’t seem to get any phone service anywhere in this town,” Michonne said, as she stared at the little red bang exclamation sign next to the text message she attempted to send. Since she arrived, but only ever had one bar at the most.

“Some parts of this town are basically cellular dead zones. Depends on your carrier too. Only a handful are semi functional.”

“That’s just perfect,” she sighed, putting the phone away to look at the man in the driver's seat. “I’ve never even heard of this place before Maya moved here. I didn’t even bother to look it up. About how many people live here?”

“Two hundred ninety-nine. Not one more. Not one less.”

“It’s that small?” 

“The towns population has been declining over the years,” he said. “And it makes sense that people would leave what with the military invasion and the nuclear explosion that gave us all weird mutations.”

She looked at him as if he had grown three heads. “What?”

He grinned, his eyes lit with a twinkle of mischief. He likely sensed her trepidation of the remarkably small town. “I’m just messing with you. Porter isn’t as weird as you think it is. Believe it or not, you came during the second most exciting time of the year. The rest of it is pretty dull and routine, to be honest.”

“But, now you’ve got me thinking.” She turned in her seat so she was facing him. “Small place like this is bound to have secrets. What’s the story? When things get too dull and routine, something scandalous just  _ has _ to pop off.”

“You a reporter for the  _ Times  _ or something?”

“I’m a graphic designer actually.”

“How would you feel knowing you’re currently the only graphic designer in Porter?”

“Well I guess that’s not too surprising. Do you guys even have a police station? I can’t imagine crime is much of a problem.”

“We do actually. What kind of place do you take this for?” he asked, pretending to be offended. “It’s a really small one. We only have one tiny holding cell, and two officers but it’s a station. I used to be the police chief. Now I’m just head of public safety.”

She burst into fit of laughter. “Mayor, landscaper and now police. Is there anything that you don’t do?”

He offered a bemused smile, stroking his chin as if he were trying to recall some of his forgotten professions. “Jack of all trades. I’m still working on becoming the town’s third doctor.”

“Oh a comedian too? I’m getting more impressed by the minute Mayor Grimes.”

He smirked, looking her up and down. “Are you? Well I’m not going to lie and say I’m not happy about that.”

They pulled off the main road turning onto a path parted between overgrown trees. The thick gravel crackled under the weight of the truck’s tires as they reached a clearing leading to vast farmland. The farm looked as if it grew out of the surrounding viridescent hills, existing for as long as the surrounding scenery. A bright red barn in the distance sat behind the rowing field of crops, fulfilling every imaginative picture of a farm Michonne’s mind could conjure up.

Rick drove toward the large brick house where the Greene’s lived. “Welcome to the Greene farm. This is where we get the majority of our produce. Ready to haul our bushel of turnips?”

“Speaking of turnips, what are you doing for this famous festival?” she asked as they climbed out of the truck.

“I was going to be a judge, but then Maya managed to loop me in.”

“Uh oh. What does she have you doing?”

“Apparently I can add artist to my resumé soon.”

“The sculpture?”

“The very one.”

“Well then we both got looped in,” she said. “I got recruited this morning.”

“Hey Rick!” A young woman with chin-length brown hair approached them with a warm smile. “I didn’t know you were stopping by today.” She glanced at his companion, offering a friendly smile. “Hi. I’m Maggie.”

“Michonne.”

“This is Maya’s daughter,” Rick further explained to Maggie. “She’s visiting for the week.”

“Nice to meet you. Welcome to Porter.” 

“I’m just passin’ through today. Hershel had somethin’ for me and I need to grab some turnips and seedlings for Maya.”

Maggie shook her head. “Don’t let Mama hear that name ‘round here until after the festival. You know how competitive she gets. Her head will spin around like she’s in  _ The Exorcist _ .”

“Oh I know better than to get myself into that kind of trouble. That’s why she loves me.”

“Daddy left the crates over by the side of the house,” she said, pointing to where they were.

The three of them started to walk back toward the house. “He home?”

“He just got back. Mama needed a lot more food coloring. It’s like his third trip out to get some more.”

“What is she making?”

Maggie put her hands on her hips, giving Rick a playful glare. “Now you know I’m sworn to secrecy, Rick Grimes.” She pointed between him and Michonne. “The two of you are on the rival team. I’m not lettin’ anything slip.”

Rick leaned toward her and whispered in her ear. “Worth a try, huh?” His breath tickled her neck and she was briefly distracted by how nice he smelled. She fought the urge to lean in closer.

“I’m assuming we’re talking about the festival?”

“We’re taking them down this weekend,” he whispered conspiratorially. 

The Greene family were a welcoming bunch. Hershel Greene was a tall gray-haired man with kind eyes and a warm smile behind his bushy beard. He spoke fondly of Maya and wished them luck for whatever she had planned.

Michonne had no doubt they were going to need it.

Rick brought the truck closer to the house and together, they all loaded four crates of turnips into the back of the truck. When they were finished, Michonne was convinced her mother was as nutty as she always thought she was.

The drive back was much quieter. The drove with the windows down and Rick had turned on the radio to a jazz station. Michonne relaxed to the sound of the soothing lyrics, enjoying the now familiar views as they passed. She would occasionally take small peeks at his profile admiring his angular features, only to find him taking peeks of his own.

There was lots of unexpected eye contact followed by quick aversion of the eyes.

This time when they drove through Main Street, the place was bustling. People walked in and out of stores and there was even a group of men installing street banners for the festival.

Before Rick could turn down on the street leaning away from the center of town, they were startled by a loud echoing pops. They exchanged alarmed look and peered out the windows to see people pointing somewhere behind them.

“Oh, what now?” Rick groaned, reaching for his door handle.

“Was that a...gunshot?” Michonne wondered aloud.

“Doubt it. Didn’t sound like one.”

It seemed everyone on Main Street was now outside looking for the source of the noise.

“Tyreese what’s going on here?” Rick asked, approaching a brawny dark-skinned man wearing a green apron. 

“Don’t know. I just came out of the shop. Sounds like fireworks.”

“Yeah,” said Rick. “But in the day time?”

“Was it gunshots?” an elderly woman nearby asked, her voice loud through the murmuring crowd.

“Up there!” Someone yelled pointing to the top of a red brick building with a sign that read Horvath Book Shop.

Michonne squinted noticing someone’s head peeking out from the top of the roof. “Sorry,” the person, a man, said with a small wave.

“Eugene!” Rick chuckled, shaking his head. “What the hell are you doing up there?”

“That was completely accidental and I used too much black powder. I wasn’t trying to set off the rocket. My apologies.”

“It’s his model rocket,” Rick explained, in a lower voice to the surrounding people. “Probably paired with some fireworks. Nothing to be alarmed about. Everything’s fine.”

“Well that’s a relief,” someone said, sarcastically. 

“Alright, well come down from there and be careful next time. That could cause another fire,” Rick called up at the peculiar man. “You’re already breaking a bunch of fire codes, Eugene. I don’t want to have to write you up.”

“Sorry,” he repeated again, sounding truly remorseful. “I think it landed in an open field. I have a fire extinguisher with me too. I planned ahead.”

“I thought he wanted to go up there to read, not start another fire,” a man grumbled. Michonne recognized him as the kind gentleman who helped her find the Town Hall the day before. She never caught his name, but now it was obvious that he worked in or owned the bookstore.

“I feel like I’m in the freaking Twilight zone,” Michonne said, watching as people returned to their own devices, waving off Eugene.

Perhaps this was a regular part of their dull and routine daily life.

Eugene apologized again when he returned to the street level and faced Rick, who informed him he would be getting off with a warning this time. Michonne noticed that his mullet had much more volume than the day before. 

“This is definitely going to make front page of our town’s newspaper,” Rick said, once they were back in the truck. “Explosion causes a spectacle on main street. I can see it now.”

“I’m guessing Porter has a fire department, right? Or is it shared with another town?” Michonne asked, wondering how long it would take to get a response if there was a fire.

“We do,” he said. “That’s actually under the department of public safety.”

“No way!” Michonne doubled over hitting her knees and Rick joined in on the laugher as well. They received some odd looks from passersby since they were sitting in a truck with the windows down and laughing like a pair of maniacs.

When she was finally able to speak again she said, “you  —you’re  not telling me  — you’re in charge of the fire department too.”

“Well I’ve never fought fires, we have volunteer firefighters for that, but yes it’s under my department. EMS too.”

“I freaking love this place,” she said as their laughter died down. “I’m going to start making a list.”

“Hopefully that means I was a good host.”

“I’m adding that to the list too. What is that? Job number five?”

“And you say I’m the comedian.”

**~….~**

“How did it go?” Maya asked, after Rick unloaded her truckload of turnips and went about his daily routine. They settled in the kitchen, where Maya eventually got started on dinner. She declared that she was going all out for the week. They’d have one of Michonne’s favorites every night.

“Seems like a nice little town,” Michonne said. “A little on the weird side, but nice. Some dude was shooting fireworks from the top of the bookstore on Main Street.”

“Eugene?”

“Yeah. Apparently he’s the town arsonist.”

“Eugene is just a very unique young man,” he mother said. “He’s too smart for his own good. I think it just gets him restless sometimes. He’s a doer. An experimenter. He was probably trying out a trick for the festival.”

“You always have a positive spin for everything don’t you?”

“I’m living my new life as an optimist. You should try it.”

“I’d hate to get to idealistic.” Michonne picked up a turnip from one of the crates on the kitchen floor. “How the hell are we going to turn all of these turnips in to a sculpture anyway?”

“Have I taught you nothing? Remember your middle school art project. You get all your creativity and style from me you know.”

“Oh I know. Remember that ugly orange and purple couch Dad got while you were away in South America?”

Maya smiled at the memory. “That thing grew on me.” She grabbed an onion and began micing it into fine pieces. “I still have it you know. It’s out back in the storeroom.” 

“I didn’t know you kept it.”

“I couldn’t…” she paused, as if trying to gather courage. “I couldn’t part ways with it. You know?”

“I know.”

“What about Rick?” Maya asked changing the subject. “Was he a good guide?”

“The man with every job in Porter? He was fine.”  _ Wonderful. _

His image flashed in her mind. From his perfect profile in the car to his wide smile and deep laugher to his authoritative stance on Main Street as he spoke to Eugene. “He seems like a really good guy.”

“He is,” she said. “He’s become sort of like the glue that holds Porter together.”

It certainly seemed that way.

“And the glue that will hold your sculpture together.”

“What? We need all the help we can get,” she said. “I’m creating an all star team here.”

Although she would never admit it out loud in that moment, she looked forward to seeing more of Rick Grimes in her remaining three days in Porter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the second day in Porter! Let me know what you think.


	3. Day Three Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I split the day into two parts. It was getting a little too long. Hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading!

**Day 3 Part 1**

Porter, VA - Population: 299

* * *

Michonne didn’t particularly care for jogging outdoors. 

The gym in her upscale contemporary apartment building afforded her with all the exercise she desired and she never had to set foot outside. Unfortunately, after the mammoth meal her mother presented during their dinner for two, she didn’t have the luxury of stepping into an elevator to climb onto a treadmill or exercise bike.

It was for that reason she found herself standing on the sidewalk outside her mother’s house at six in the morning, stretching her muscles before her run. Thankfully, her joyride with Rick gave her a general idea of the town’s layout.

She peeked up at the large house across the street as she lunged back with her right foot, holding her stretch. Now that she was closer, she observed the ivy ferns that grew against the sides of the house, the eerie silence, the waterless stone fountains. Against the early dawn light, the remnants of the merrier times filled with splendour were almost visible.

She smiled thinking of the man behind the walls with his dark curly hair and his mesmerising ocean blue eyes. She wondered if she would see him before he joined her and Maya for dinner that evening and secretly hoped for that possibility. 

She turned on her exercise playlist, popping her earbuds in her ear as she turned away from the house.

The balmy air of the early spring morning swept against her skin as she started her run down the sidewalk in the direction of Town Hall. Her steady gait is almost soundless as her feet pushed rhythmically against the pavement. The two houses are soon behind her, replaced with a different variety of Porter’s scenery.

She ran past the large white church building that doubled as the Town Hall, toward the road overlooking the valley to Main Street. 

She stopped outside the small Post Office, sitting on a sidewalk bench to catch her breath and enjoy the early morning bustle before the return home.

“Hey out-of-towner!”

A smile formed on her lips when she heard the familiar voice. From the periphery of her vision, she saw him approaching from the direction she came from, in a slow jog of his own. Her gaze slid to the side and she offered a smile to the dark-haired mayor, drenched in sweat.

There was something about Rick Grimes, his magnetic smile, his gentleness and earnesty, that drew her to him. Perhaps it was attraction.

“Morning Mayor Grimes,” she called teasingly. It was obvious he wasn’t much of a runner. He was dressed in a brown t-shirt and a pair of dark navy blue running pants with ‘police’ written on the side in gold lettering.“Enjoying your run?”

Rick stopped in front of her, leaning over to catch his breath. “Yeah,” he answered, between his heavy breathing. “I like trying new things. I think I might actually do this more often.”

She smiled at the indirect confirmation that he was indeed jogging through the streets of Porter in the early morning because of her.

“You and me both,” she said. “This was way more scenic than a treadmill overlooking a concrete jungle.”

“I bet it does.” He sat down on the bench beside her, a grin on his face. “So, same time tomorrow? I’d love a running partner.”

“Well since Maya will most likely cook another meal big enough to feed an army tonight, we’re both going to need some exercise.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to have more of Maya’s cooking,” he said, leaning back against the bench as he conjured the mental images. “I’ve been daydreamin’ about it since last night when I had to force down some pretty terrible steak.”

“I’m hoping for some of her red rice tonight. I know she’s going to go all out tonight,” she said. “I’m jealous you live next door to all that good homemade food.”

He shifted his body toward her, his blue orbs locking with her chocolate browns. “Visit more and there’ll be no need for jealousy. I don’t mind sharin’.” 

“We’ll see. If this place makes a good impression by the end of the week, maybe I will.”

His eyes widened in faux surprise as if she just dropped the bombshell of the century. “We haven’t made a good impression yet? As the president and only member of the welcoming committee, I feel like a damn failure. I must not be doin’ my job right.”

“You’re doing fine for now.” she leaned her arm against the back of the bench, half-facing him. “I’m just a little hard to please.”

“Challenge accepted.” His eyes continued burning into her, almost as if he was searching for the depths of her soul. “Wanna grab some morning coffee with me? I’m gonna need it if you’re planning on running back to Belcher. It’s almost seven, Morgan should be opening soon.”

“That run didn’t fully wake you up?”

“Oh it did,” he said. “And then it drained all my energy. It’s a good thing it’s my day off.”

“Your legs are going to be so sore tomorrow,” she laughed.

The pair rose from the bench as Rick lead the way to the only coffee shop in town.

“I’ll stop by the house today sometime after one or so, to do my part with the turnips as promised,” he said as he held the door open for her. 

“I almost forgot about that.”

“Morgan! How’s it goin’ man?”

“Rick. You’re here early. You were waitin’ for me to open or something? Miss me?” The man emerged from behind the counter, with a warm smile for his first customers of the day. Michonne recognized him as one of the board members from the meeting in Town Hall. “Hello.”

“Hi.”

“Maya’s daughter, right?”

“That’s right.” New faces certainly didn’t escape the notice of the people in Porter. News seemed to travel fast as well.

“Welcome to Porter,” he said, reaching out to shake her hand. “First time, right?”

“Yes, and it’s about time I visited. I’ve always been curious about the reclusive little town that my mother is so in love with. I can see it has its charm.”

“That it does,” he agreed. “What can I get for you two?”

“The usual for me,” Rick answered, before turning to Michonne for her response.

Michonne glanced up at the blackboard menu with the drink written in chalk. “Those are some...unique combinations you have there. Turnip coffee?” They had everything from maple bacon coffee to wine inspired iced teas and whiskey brewed coffees. In fact, there were more unique flavors than ones regularly seen at coffee shops.

“Limited edition,” he grinned, looking back proudly at the menu. “It’s only served during the month of May, in time for the Turnip festival.”

“Well, when in Rome,” she said with a shrug. “I’ll have the Turnip coffee then. I’ll save trying the whiskey brew for some other time.”

“It has a really...unique taste,” said Rick. “You either love it or hate it. No in between.”

“I don’t know how I feel about that.”

“So did Dale really file a complaint yesterday?” Morgan asked as he went back behind the counter to prepare their drink orders.

“A complaint?” His brow furrowed in confusion.

“About Eugene. That’s what I heard,” he said. “Thinks you’re going too easy on him. What with everything that happened with...you know.” His eyes flitted to Michonne and it was obvious whatever he was referring to wasn’t something he wanted to delve into in front of a stranger.

It was probably something personal. Probably something filled with deep small town secrets.

Rick’s expression visibly hardened, his nostrils flaring as he made a sweeping arm gesture. “That’s not what I did what I did. There are better ways to deal with things than immediately going the punishment route. He doesn’t like it, then he’s free to file his damn complaint. Eugene is harmless. Sometimes people can’t help the way they are.”

Morgan chuckled, shaking his head as he grabbed a cup for Rick’s drink. “To be fair, we had four fires for the year so far.”

“God help us if there’s a fifth,” Rick said with humorless laughter. “Old man Horvath will blow a gasket.”

“So, how are you enjoying your stay here?” Morgan asked, changing the subject to include Michonne. “You probably haven’t seen much. You should go down to the river before you head back. It’s beautiful. Especially in the early morning or evening.”

“We used to go over there to ditch school when we were younger.”

“That’s right!” Morgan capped Rick’s drink sliding it across the counter. “I would have been a rocket scientist if it wasn’t for this guy! Now I serve overpriced coffee to exploring hipsters while he single handedly runs a whole town.”

“You’re welcome,” Rick retorted with a broad grin.

“Now the house special for the lady of the hour.” He poured the unique concoction into another cup, serving her with a friendly smile.

“Thank you, Morgan.” She took the drink from him. “I actually can’t wait to taste this.” She brought the cup to her lips taking a dainty sip. She winced as the bitterness of the drink washed over her taste buds.

“You don’t like it?” Rick asked. 

She wrinkled her nose, pushing her tongue forward with a grimace. “This is pretty  —”

“Pretty damn terrible?” Morgan finished for her.

“It’s  _ so _ bitter.”

“The real reason it’s only served once a year probably,” Rick laughed. “It’s an acquired taste. I personally don’t mind it, but I guess it’s not for everyone.”

“Well this probably isn’t a taste I’m looking to acquire.” She gave Morgan an apologetic smile. “Sorry. It’s just not to my liking.”

“That’s absolutely fine.” He waved her off. “Half of the people who order it hate it. It’s basically Porter’s version of pumpkin spice during October. It really is an acquired taste. I’ll make you some regular coffee.”

**~....~**

“Have you always lived in Porter?”

Rick spread out the photographs of the church building they would somehow be recreating out of turnips. Maya rushed out of the house, shortly after he arrived that afternoon, exclaiming that she had an almost forgotten errand to run in town. 

She remembered feeling a little silly at the giddiness that filled her at the sight of him entering the house with his tousled hair and casual wear. She’d known the man for barely three days.

“Yep. Been here since birth. I was actually born right there in that house across the street.” 

“Really? So, you probably grew up with most of the people here.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Morgan and I were attached at the hip growing up. He moved here to stay with his grandparents when we were nine and we’ve been best friends ever since.”

“That’s actually nice,” she mused. “Everyone is like one big happy family. If your family had like three hundred people.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“So, your whole family still lives here in town?” she asked casually, her curiosity piqued. “Seems like you live alone over there.”

“Well technically, it’s just me  _ in _ town. My father moved into a cabin on the trail over the creek a few years ago.”

She remembered Maya asking about the man the previous day and the comparison he drew between the man and Eugene. She wondered if he had anything to do with Morgan’s cryptic line of questioning in the coffee shop earlier that morning.

“You guys are close?”

“You can say that. Not as close as we used to be, but we get on well and I try to see him often enough.”

“Between your fifty-leven jobs,” she joked, playfully nudging his arm. She could feel the heaviness when he spoke about his father and could tell it was likely a sensitive subject.

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “It’s actually a lot easier than it sounds. Things are pretty quiet over here, so it’s a perfect place to have multiple jobs. Very little action.”

“You and Maya seem close.”

“Yeah it’s been great having her as a neighbor. I would’ve never thought I would be participating in the Festival like this again. I usually just go just to be there,” he said. “My family used to go all out when I was young. It’s refreshing to see.”

She picked up a turnip, spinning it around in her hand. If someone told her she would be building a model of an old church out of turnips with her mother’s neighbor slash mayor, two days ago, she’s have called them crazy. “So, any idea how we’re going to do this? I don’t even know what the hell a turnip sculpture is supposed to be, but I wouldn’t be surprised if this is also part of your skill set.”

“Uh not really. Sorry to disappoint you,” he said. “Maya said  _ you  _ were the artist. I’m just here to follow orders. I know nothing.”

“Well I’m a graphic designer. Hardly any sculpting experience there.” She crossed her arms. “Other than what little I’ve learned from watching my mother that is. And that’s not much.”

“Okay, so she at least left us some instructions to start off,” he said, producing the yellow legal pad with neatly written words. “We just have the follow ‘em. Can’t possibly be that hard.”

“It’s going to look like something a group of preschoolers did, isn’t it?”

“Where is your confidence?” he laughed. “I mean she  _ did _ abandon us with her project, but we’re probably halfway competent combined.”

“You just have to go along with her every whim, it usually pays off in the end.” She reached for the knife in the holder. “Let’s just chop them in small pieces and stack them like popsicle sticks. Does this even have to be edible? I don’t even know the rules of this thing. I’m still trying to make sense of this competition.”

“Could be edible, yeah, but I don’t think it’s actually a criteria. Turnips don’t even regularly taste that good anyway. Think of this like butter sculptures at a state fair. Those are  _ serious _ .”

“Except it’s a root vegetable and a very tough one at that.” She moved around the table, leaning in to read the instructions that were still in his hands. Their closeness of their bodies sending tingles on her skin. “So, I guess we can start with the steeple?” 

“Sounds easy enough.” He grabbed a knife for himself and the pair got seated and started the tedious task of peeling the vegetables.

“So, what about you?” He lifted his eyes to meet hers. “Always lived the city life in Alexandria?”

“Basically,” she said, with a shrug. “Not one single city though. We moved around a lot for Dad’s work in the early years, but we settled in Alexandria. I still live there now.”

“Maya always tells stories about her travels,” he said, nodding his head. “She’s done amazing things in her life.”

“She did. Still does in this place.”

“That’s what I like to hear! We  _ are _ making a good impression.” He winked at her before looking back at their instruction sheet. “Sounds like we’ll be seeing more of you. You and Maya seem close.”

“It must look pretty awful that I’ve never been here to visit her, I know. I don’t see her as often as I should.  _ She’s _ the one that always takes the trips out to see me,” she blew out a breath. “I think I’ve been so focused on work and everything else for so long, I’ve definitely been slacking in other aspects of life.” She wasn’t sure why she was volunteering all that information, but he was easy to talk too.

“That’s just life sometimes,” he said, in a somewhat sombre tone, his soft eyes on her. “I know that feeling very well. It’s natural to try to fault yourself.”

She gazed at him thoughtfully, searching her mind for a response, but not wanting to delve too deep into what she felt were her shortcomings. “Yeah. Let’s talk about something lighter.” She nudged his ankle with hers. “So about this creek I keep hearing about.”

He shook his head, grinning widely. “It’s best to look at sunrise or sunset the first time. When the light hits the water it almost looks like it’s not even real. It’s hard to explain.”

She held his gaze quietly. “Detour for our morning run tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” He patted his leg, with a playful grin. “Hopefully, I’m in still working order tomorrow. I think I pulled a muscle tryin’ to catch up with you this morning.”

“You should have stretched,” she shrugged.

“No time. You were halfway down the block, by the time I decided to pick up this new hobby. I nearly busted my ass gettin’ downstairs.”

“Poor thing.” She rested her palm under her chin. “I’m glad you didn’t though. Then I wouldn’t have any company to watch the sunrise by the creek tomorrow. I’d drag Maya out, but she’s still recovering and she’s not a morning person.” 

Their eyes remained locked and there was a charged energy in the room. It was as if the world stopped for a moment and they were the only two beings left. The feeling both excited and unnerved Michonne.

“You know, I think I have a perfect stand for this sculpture statue thing. Whatever it’s called. It’ll make transportin’ in a lot easier” he said, standing up suddenly, breaking the spell. “Come on. I’ll show you.” 

She shook her head, attempting to clear the buzzing in her head. “Where? Your place?”

“Uh, yeah.”His face reddened shightly just as his phone started chiming angrily in his pocket. He handed her the legal pad, reaching for the noisy device. “Grimes.”

He listened quietly, his brow furrowed. “Wait, slow down. Killer bees?” He ran a hand through his dark curls his expression becoming more alarmed by the second. “How is that even…? I thought he was scheduled for yesterday…” he listened as the voice on the other end gave a lengthy explanation. “That’s just...Wow. Alright I’ll give them a call and I’ll be there in five...No I’ll come straight there. I can’t do anything down there. I’m sure they have it handled.”

“What is it?” she asked when he hung up, seeing his clear agitation.

“There was a bee attack,” he answered, his tone one of disbelief. 

“A  _ bee _ attack?”

“At Town Hall. Apparently it’s a huge swarm and they’re aggressive. They said it could be about a million of them.”

Michonne simply stared at him, her mouth agape. “Are you being serious?”

“Serious as a dead man walking. It’s actually not as crazy as it sounds. Come on.” He reached for her hand as he moved to exit the kitchen. “I’ll explain on the way.”

“Wait a minute. Why exactly are there killer bees attacking at Town hall?” she asked, speed-walking to keep up with him as he approached the front door. She kicked off her house slippers, hopping around as she tried to get her sneakers on. “And what on earth are you supposed to do about a bee attack? Is that another side job? You’re a beekeeper too?”

“Of course not. I’m actually terrified of those things in large swarms. We’ll just have to call in an exterminator or something. Apparently the bee specialist that was hired to get rid of them got attacked and he’s pretty banged up.” He opened the front door, before turning back to face her with a serious expression. “I swear, things are not usually this exciting around here.”

The bees, Michonne learned, were living within the wall of the old church for years, Rick informed her on once they were in the car. They passed Town Hall without stopping, seeing it covered with yellow police tape. There was an ambulance out front along with people wearing protective clothing and veils. The sidewalks were blocked of in an attempt to keep away roaming pedestrians who could come into contact with the aggressive bees.

“We recently hired this specialist guy to get them out because they were getting pretty bad and we didn’t want the swarm growing more and people getting attacked. Especially with the festival coming up,” he explained. “Clearly that didn’t help. The guy was a little shady anyway.”

“You’re not going to Town Hall?” she asked pointing behind them as they sped past the building.

He shook his head. “No, Public Safety department. Can’t do anything here. Bee wrangling isn’t one of the careers I’ve conquered and I don’t plan for it to be one.”

Rick Grimes really was the glue that held Porter together. When they entered the public safety department, people orbited around him. He was the type of man everyone loved. A natural born leader with a killer smile.

He was a marvel to watch.

She drifted into the background, strolling around the office space as people made frantic phone calls while shifting through the organized clutter on their desks. From the sound of things, they needed to call in some serious outside help.

She looked out the front glass window at the people bustling about Main street, enjoying their daily lives. Her eyes found Maya across the street as she exited the butcher shop. She glanced up squinted, as she saw the familiar figure looking at her through the long glass windows of the brink building.

Michonne waved and she waved back mouthing ‘what are you doing in there?’

‘Wait,’ she mouthed back, gesturing that she would be out in a minute.

As if sensing her eyes, Rick’s rose to hers in the midst of the chaos as soon as she turned around. He offered a small smile, strolling away from his busy desk to meet her by the window.

“Maya.” She nodded to the woman across the street who wore an impish grin. “I’m probably going to head back with her to help out with dinner and everything.”

“Sorry about that,” he said, apologetically as he took a step closer to her.

“It’s fine. You’re Mr. Jack. It’s only natural to get pulled in every direction.” She was hyper aware of his close proximity. She wanted nothing more than to move closer. “See you at dinner later?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” 

They awkwardly shuffled around each other, not knowing whether to walk away or initiate some form of physical contact to express their temporary goodbyes. “Later.

“Later.”

“Fancy seeing you here,” Maya said, placing her hands on her hips when Michonne exited the station. “You abandoned your post! We have less than forty-eight hours to get this thing done. Luckily, I’m in a forgiving mood.”

Maya’s eyes shifted back to the window behind Michonne where Rick still stood watching. He gave a half wave, when she caught him staring, stumbling back to his desk.

“I’m sure you are,” Michonne said, not bothering to hide her amusement. “You heard about the bee specialist guy, the town hired to get rid of the infestation? He got attacked by a huge swarm of African bees. Thousands of them. I know news travel fast in small towns.”

“Oh that’s what all that chatter was about,” she said, looking back at the butcher store. “I hope he’s okay. That’s why you and Rick are out here.”

“Yeah, he’s got his hands in multiple places right now, and it’s his day off from public safety. I’m thinking he’ll be busy until dinner.”

“Hmm.” She gave her daughter a once over. “Then it’s back to you and me for this competition. It’s nice to see you’re actually mingling though.” They started walking toward her vintage, cherry red car. 

“Maya.”

“What? I said it once and I’ll say it as many times as necessary.” She shrugged her shoulders unapologetically. “Anyway, you can continue with our entry while I get started on dinner. And we still have a lot of catching up to do. Wait till you hear about the afternoon  _ I _ had.”


	4. Day Three Part 2

**Day 3 (Part 2)**

Porter, VA - Population: 299

* * *

The two women spent most of the short ride in Maya’s speeding car laughing about the five dollar parking ticket they found on the windshield and her fascinating afternoon encounter.

“So, I attended a makeshift funeral earlier this afternoon,” Maya said, slipping her sunglasses back on as they turned onto Belcher street. “And honey it was a beautiful mess.”

Michonne’s mouth fell open as she took in her attire which consisted of a bright red blouse with loose casual jeans with an incredulous glance. “You went dressed like that? I thought you were just going to the store.”

“Well, I _was_ on the way to the butcher’s, but then I met Daryl at the coffee shop along the way and ended up going to a funeral for his dead pet. It was a possum. He’s so persuasive without even knowing it.”

Michonne was nearly beyond the point of being surprised by anything anyone in Porter told her anymore, including her mother. She didn’t bother with the whys. She pressed her lips together, fighting back laughter as she responded. “Oh...wow. How’d it die?”

Maya snorted rolling her eyes. “Horvath accidentally ran the poor thing over yesterday. He lives across the street from Daryl and the poor animal somehow got in his yard. I would have been home earlier to help you and Rick, but I felt so bad for Daryl. He loved that little guy.”

“That sounds terrible.” Her brow furrowed as she recognized the familiar name from earlier that morning. “Wait a minute. What’s up with this Horvath guy? I’ve been hearing that name around. Sounds like trouble.”

“Oh Dale’s just a harmless grump slash town gossiper,” Maya said, waving it off as she parked in front of the driveway. “He has something to say about everything and seems to know everybody’s damn business. It was a nice get together though. Weird, but nice.”

The remainder of the afternoon progressed rapidly once they arrived home. Michonne, not quite as skilled as Maya would have liked, was assigned to chop vegetables and prep the meat before getting shooed out of the kitchen to work on the “sculpture”.

Maya insisted on having dinner in the large dining room she never had the opportunity to use. Michonne thought it was a little much, but she helped Maya set up the tablecloth, silverware and the tall silver candelabras on the mahogany table meant to sit six.

“It smells so good in here,” Michonne commented once she reentered the kitchen and the rich aroma of her mother’s cooking wafted over her, beckoning her closer. 

“Always. Plus, I’m making your favorite,” Maya sang twirling her wooden spoon as if it were a magic wand.

“You said that last night.” Michonne strolled over, peering into the bubbling pot. “Unless you just assume everything you make is my favorite. You won’t be wrong though.”

“Yep. I know my daughter.” She covered the pot, turning to her daughter with a grin. “It’s Rick’s favorite too, so it all works out.” She pointed back to the pot. “This is basically done. I’m just gonna let it simmer and head upstairs to change.”

Michonne glanced around the kitchen feeling a little too idle. “Well I’ll be down here. You need me to do anything here?”

“Yes,” she said, emphatically. “Sit down, relax, and don’t touch anything, okay?”

She held up her hands in surrender. “Don’t touch anything. That I can do.”

Michonne sighed looking at the house that surrounded her. It was so unlike her childhood home. She smiled glancing at the framed candid photograph in the entryway of her and Maya at her college graduation. Her father had taken it.

The photograph was a time machine. She was suddenly back to that damp spring day, with her father calling her name in attempt to get the two women to focus on the camera. Michonne, distracted by her mother’s giddiness, had her attention focused elsewhere as Maya chatted animatedly with her hands. They embodied happiness and pride.

The picture stood out, raw and real, from all the others he took that day. The two most important people in her father’s life immortalized in their natural fun relaxed state. This was Michonne and Maya as he saw them.

Deciding to follow Maya’s orders, Michonne grabbed her phone and went out to the wooden porch swing where she settled down to enjoy the setting sun. She shut her eyes and drew in a deep breath as she enjoyed the quaint tranquility surrounding her. 

Out of habit, she checked her cell phone, noticing an alert for a missed call from Andrea. As if her friend knew her gaze was on the screen, the phone let out a shrill noise as it buzzed in her hand.

“Hello my love!”

“So, you’re still alive. Nice to hear from you too. I’ve been trying to call you since Tuesday. What happened? I was about to send out a damn search party.” Her long-time friend, Andrea, was never one to mince words.

“My phone service is really crappy out here. I’m going back and forth with one or two bars right now,” she said, rising to her feet and stepping off the porch and onto the stone path in the middle of her mother’s garden. “I tried to text you when I got here. ”

“Yeah, I saw,” Andrea responded with a sigh. “How’s your mother doing by the way?”

Michonne glanced back as if said woman was within sight behind her. “She’s doing alright actually. I might have just missed the worst of it, but she’s the same ‘ol spunky Maya. You’d never tell she took a fall.” 

“Well that’s a good thing. Tell her I said hey.”

“Yeah.” She could tell there was more that Andrea had called to say. “So, Shane and I called things off again. I don’t know. Things have been crazy and honestly it’s probably for the best.”

“Oh Andrea, I’m so sorry.” She listened attentively as her friend recounted her catastrophic overseas vacation with her long time boyfriend. The trip commenced with expectations of a grand Parisian proposal and concluded with a shouting match in a hotel lobby followed by a security escort from the premises. Andrea was almost certain the encounter had gone viral by now.

“But anyway, enough about me. Fall for any hot small town men yet?”

She had all but sworn off futile dating months before after ending things with the guy she was seeing. It became apparent that he was more on a quest to find himself rather than focus on an actual relationship and they decided their separate ways, promising to remain friends.

Her mind drifted back to Rick. She didn’t know him that well, but there was something there that left her wanting to know more. The ease of conversation, his warm smile and apparent caring nature was a plus in her book. In fact, the way he so easily got along with and charmed her mother was an added bonus.

“Please. I’m not really looking for that sort of thing right now. Relationships are way too hard.”

Andrea paused for a while before finally responding in an amused tone. “You did, didn’t you? I hear that defensiveness in your voice. Who is he?”

“I’m sure you are,” she laughed. “Anyway, I have to go. Maya and I are having dinner with a friend tonight.”

“Alright, but I’m waiting to hear everything when you get back.”

“Sunday lunch at Clyde’s?” 

“Twelve thirty sharp. Take a picture of him to show me!”

“Bye Andrea,” Michonne said, rolling her eyes as she laughed. They said their goodbyes once again.

As she hung up the phone she heard soft footsteps approaching on the path behind her. She didn’t have to turn around to know it was him. 

“Hey stranger.”

She turned around, looking up straight into his clear blue eyes. “You’re here.” She wished she would have thought of something better to say in greeting. 

“Yeah. Finally. It’s been a long day.” 

“You look tired,” she said, taking a step closer to examine him in the low light.

“I am. Just a little.”

Andreas words were at the back of her mind. She took a deep, shaky breath in an attempt to calm herself down. _No, I’m definitely not looking for that._ “How’d that whole killer bee situation go?”

He shrugged, rubbing his index finger against his forehead. “Well the guy didn’t die, so that’s a big positive. The day wasn’t completely disastrous.”

She grinned. “Ever the optimist.”

“Yeah well maybe spending time with you was a good influence on my day.” He was much closer to her now, and she stared into his eyes, feeling the tangible electricity between them. Their bodies are almost touching. It would take less than two steps.

The front door swung open behind them making them both jump at the sound. “You know, I’m thinking we should have dinner on the back patio instead.” Maya stood on the porch with a flowing shawl over her shoulders, staring down at the pair with a knowing smile.

“That’s a actually great idea,” Michonne said dryly. “Not that I’ve suggested it twenty times or anything.”

Maya put her hands on her hips, raising a brow with a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. “Just come help me with the food.”

**~FDP~**

“Why on earth did you even think that was a good idea!”

“You don’t understand,” Maya said, putting down her wine to properly explain the details of how she got her injury. “That kid was a little asshole and I was a rollerblading and a Double Dutch champ when I was a lot younger. That’s before your time honey. Well I thought I still had it in me and I did, until I was airborne during the last round. It was worth it though. I regret nothing.”

Rick doubled over in laughter at Maya’s unapologetic tone. “He was a little asshole though,” he told Michonne.

“See? At least Rick understands. I couldn’t just let that old lady comment slide.”

Michonne shook her head, her mouth turning upwards in a smile. “You’re still the same you.”

Maya picked up her glass again. “Honey, I’m too old to change. I’m gonna be set in these ways forever.”

“Well, no more sidewalk rollerblading challenges okay? For me.”

“I may not be changing, but I’m still capable of learning.”

“This is so good by the way.” Rick moaned as he brought his fork up to his lips for another bite of food. “I don’t know how you do it Maya.”

“So glad you like it,” she smiled. “I can show you how to make it sometime. I’m a piss poor teacher, but I’ll try.”

They continued eating their meal with conversation quickly flowing with ease. Michonne and Rick were seated side by side with Maya directly across from them. Each time Rick’s eyes met Michonne’s or their arms or fingers brushed briefly against the other she felt light flutters in her stomach. Her body felt like a live wire and from his expression, he seemed to know exactly what he was doing.

The attraction was definitely mutual.

When they were finally filled to contentment with food and laughter Maya rose to clear the table. “Oh, I can do that Maya,” Rick said, standing to help gather the plates. He shooed her into the house, insisting that he would handle the cleanup and Michonne stayed back to help.

“Well, I’m bushed,” Maya said. “I think I’ll turn in for the night.”

“Already?” Michonne asked incredulously. Her mother had always been a night owl and a late riser. And based on the previous two nights, that hadn’t changed since her arrival to Porter.

“I’m an old lady. I go to bed early,” Maya lied, stretching her arms above her head. “Plus cooking so much food is exhausting. See you two tomorrow. You’ll lock up, won’t you baby?”

Michonne eyed her mother suspiciously. “Yeah, Goodnight.”

“Night Maya.”

Michonne never imagined such palpable sexual tension between two people clearing a table and cleaning dishes was possible. She became so occupied in her own mind, attempting to fully concentrate on her task and not how his presence made her feel that she didn’t hear the words he started to speak to her.

“Um...Sorry. What was that?”

“You gonna teach me those stretching exercises tomorrow?”

It took her a beat or two to connect the dots and correctly interpret the question he was posing. “Well I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself again,” she retorted.

“That was nothing,” he said. “Just know, you’re going to be running a lot slower than you’re used to tomorrow. I’m definitely going to keep you back. I’ll be upfront about that.”

She nudged him playfully as she passed him to enter the back door leading to the kitchen. “Oh I know it’s going to beginners pace tomorrow. Fully prepared for it.”

“Hey, I’m the comedian around here.”

The finished quickly in the kitchen, working effortlessly around each other with the conversation, littered with smiles and unspoken attraction, flowing freely. Once they were finished, it was clear neither one wanted the ease of communication to end.

“This...this was nice. I had a great time with you and Maya tonight.”

His proximity was static, an electrifying crackling in the air. “Me too.” She didn’t know what to do with her hands all of a sudden. For what felt like minutes, but was truly a half second, they stood in silence captivated in each other’s stare.

“I should probably head out,” he finally said, his eyes never leaving hers.

“I’ll...uh walk you out. I was just going to sit out there anyway,” she said. “You can stay a while if you want.”

“I was just going home to an empty house so don’t mind if I do.”

She led the way out of the kitchen and to the front porch. She listened to the beat of his soft footsteps behind her in perfect synchrony with hers.

“It’s so quiet out here,” she said, wrapping her arms around her body, as she sat down on the swing. “Does it ever feel strange or are you too used to it.”

“Definitely too used to it.”

“It’s nice though. I hear it’s a great stress reliever. Perfect place to get away from the whole corporate setting and just get a clear mind.” She was both looking forward to and dreading the pile of upcoming high profile project she and her creative team would undertake once she returned. She was in for a busy few months.

“You must get really busy.”

“Not quite like you though,” she said, closing her eyes and tipping her head back. “It usually consists of me being confined to my desk in my office building or home office until everything in flawless.”

“So you’re probably a perfectionist.”

“What makes you think that?”

“My clients are the ones that are perfectionists. I just make sure me and my team give them exactly what they want and exceed their expectations in the process.”

He listened intently as she spoke, the corners of his mouth turned up. “That’s amazing. I’d love to see what you can do.”

“If Porter is ever in any need of promotional material...”

“You’re the lady for the job,” he finished for her. “I never apologized by the way.”

“For what?”

“Abandoning our project today,” he grinned over at her. “I’m serious about this partnership. I’m starting to fear that Anette might actually win again this year.”

“Well depending on how you perform tomorrow, I might forgive you,” she said. “Otherwise crushing my mother’s dreams will be all on you.”

“Me?” He pointed to himself. She could see his smile in the moonlight. “I’m not the award-winning graphic designer. Lower expectations for this guy.”

“You said your family used to go all out for this turnip thing. What was that like?”

He chuckled, leaning his head back against the wooden slats of the swing. “That was forever ago. When my brother and I were kids, my mother took that stuff seriously. We used to have these matching family costumes and we’d take part in literally every activity in the festival. Seeing her excitement just takes me back, you know.”

“Yeah.” The swing moved slowly back and forth. “You have a brother?”

“He lives out of state now,” he said. “Never moved back after college. He keeps in touch now and then.”

They were silent, rocking steadily on the wooden swing. Their hands were close between them on the bench. If she moved her hand, even slightly, they would be touching. Her fingers moved slightly, brushing against the tips of his and he moved his hand closer, taking hers in his.

Her breath hitched at his touch and a small smile formed on her lips and she turned to look at him. She swallowed, inching closer as she gazed at him, losing herself in his bright eyes. He held her gaze and it consumed her.

One second they were simply holding hands, captivated by the effect they had on each other, then the next their lips joined as if it was the most natural thing in the world. A euphoric frenzy rushed through her as she closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling his soft lips as his mouth moved against hers. 

“Wow,” he sighed when they finally broke apart. His eyes glimmered like gems in the dim light.

_Wow, it was._

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while ago back in 2018. I posted it elsewhere and figured I’d post it here as well.


End file.
